Anonymous Americas

A Goblin Christmas - Poem by Anonymous Americas

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The little Man, and tiny Maid,Who love the Fairies in the glade,Who see them in the tangled grassThe Gnomes and Brownies, as they pass,Who hear the Sprites from Elf-land callGo, frolic with these Brownies small,And join these merry sporting Elves,But ever be your own sweet selves.

The big bright Moon hung high and round,In a densely darkened sky;The tall pines swayed, and mocked, and groaned;The mountains grew so highThat the Man-in-the-Moon came out and said,'Ho! Spooks, for a merry dance.'The winds blow hard, the caverns roar,While o'er the earth they prance.

A Witch and a Goblin led the sprites;Out from the sky they sprung;And down the milky way they slid,And over a chasm swung.The streams around ran witches' broth,The fumes were strong and rank.These Elfin creatures all were wroth,While of the stuff they drank.

The cunning Moon looked on and laughedWith a shrill and sneering jibe;Her soul grew fat to see them chaffed,This mad and elfish tribe.The big black caldron boiled so highWith food for these queer mites,That it lit the world throughout the sky,And down came all the Sprites.

Their mad career upset a star,As through the air they flew:It cringed in fear, and shot afar,And fell where no one knew.Orion's sword was broke in bits,Corona's crown was gone,Capella seemed to lose her wits,While all so longed for dawn.

Then from the night there came a soundOf sleigh-bells ringing sweet;Out of the chaos came a man—Kris Kringle—for his Christmas treat.'Ho! Kris!' they cried, 'We'll have some fun,We'll bind the old man down,We'll tie him up, and toss him o'erInto our Goblin-town.'

They climbed the sleigh with shout and din,To bind his hands and feet;A hundred strong they clambered inOur good old Kris to meet.He sat quite still, with twinkling eyes,Then seized his mystic wand,He raised it up, and waved it roundStilled was this chattering band.

Stiffly stark and still they stood,Clad in elfish clothes;Some were wax, and some were wood,One had crushed his nose.'Playthings rare,' he said and smiled,'For children rich and poor;Some I'll leave the crippled child,And some at the orphan's door.'

He shook his reins, and called his steedTo bear him swiftly on.Full well it knew its Master's needTo hurry e'er the dawn.From house to house they scampered down,Their sleigh-bells ringing clear,Through chimneys in the sleepy town—Good Kris and his reindeer.

The windows rattled, the moonbeams tattledA tale so strange and queer.They told how at night, in dire affrightThe Moon had hid in fear.

That he'd called in sport his elfish courtOf spooks and witches gay,Each Elfin child, by glee beguiled,Brought scores of others, they say.Then a man appeared, with flowing beard,In a sled with a reindeer fleet;They gathered about with din and shout,To bind him hands and feet.

Then the Moon laughed loud at the gathering crowd,While he held his sides in mirth,To see old Kris in a plight like this,Toiling o'er the earth.

But alas for the Moon, he had laughed like a loon,For Kris is a hero of old,Yes, Kris is a seer; with his small reindeer,He captured the Goblins bold.And he changed them, they say in a wonderful way,To toys, for his Christmas cheer.The big dolls stare with a goblin air,

While the moonbeams prattle, I hear a rattleOf hoofs on the chimney side;Then out on the snow I gaze below,'Hurrah! it's Kris Kringle,' I cried.Then, sly as a mouse, he entered the house,And hung up his treasures so gay.Then out with a dash, he sped like a flash,Into the night, and away.